Keep Me Afloat
by JosieSueLupin
Summary: "I remember that you were the only person keeping me afloat. The only person who didn't care that I couldn't remember." When an accident renders Harry James Potter wiped of all memories of his life, an unexpected blonde man manages to keep the pieces together.
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome to my very first story in a long long time! My first ever Harry/Draco. Set Eighteen months after the war. Please leave me a review and let me know if it's worth continuing? I'm feeling pretty good about it. This first chapter is a setup, so bare with me and I'll get you some Draco/Harry._

 _This story is set in an AU Universe where Harry was in an accident mere months after he defeated Voldemort and lost any memory of his past life. We'll be following his struggle to remember, but also his struggle to be accepted in his current state._

 _Characters and World belong to J.K Rowling. I only own the idea and writing._

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

 _Harry James Potter._

The name felt strange as Harry slowly scribbled it down on the piece of paper in front of him. It was supposed to help him remember something—anything. They told him his name, and writing it down could help his brain heal. Or at least that's what he'd been told. At the rate he was going, he was left with a pit in depths of his stomach. No matter how many times he copied that name down using a quill and ink—it didn't matter. He still had no fucking clue who the hell he was or what life he had lived.

With frustration—the man swept the parchment to the side. Sending it flying through the air, caring little if it messed up the ink he had just laid down on it. It didn't matter if it smudged. Smudging the black ink wasn't going to make his memory worse. Slowly, Harry brought ink-stained fingertips to his mouth and turned his head so he could stare intently at the wall. Wishing that for just a moment, he could remember the man that carried that name.

It was some time into the evening. Everyone had gone for the night, expecting him to get the sleep he so desperately needed. They only allowed one or two people at a time anyway—leaving him feeling more overwhelmed then comforted by their presence. He hated the look in their eyes. They met his eyes, often with the desperate hope that he was still in there, only to be met with someone they didn't know. He couldn't handle the disappointment anymore, not when there was nothing he could do to stop it.

For a moment, the idea of leaving crossed his mind. He could pack whatever belongings had been brought to him and just leave. Disappear away from all of the people who were waiting for him to come back to them. But where would he go, what would he do? _You have nowhere to go_. Even if he had an idea of how to make it through the world, he'd lost everything. The only thing he had left was this hospital room and a name that he wasn't sure was his.

Settling back in his bed, green eyes moved and fixed to the ceiling. Tracing the soft lines, he found there, he vaguely wondered how something got so pristine. Magic he supposed would be the answer if he asked anyone, but he disliked how that was used as an answer for everything when he asked. Every question was met with that answer, as if it explained everything about his life away. The older redheaded woman who visited— _Mary? No…. Molly. Yes, Molly._ Was particularly fond of that answer. Using it for every little thing. There was nothing more infuriating to him—especially because he was trying with all his might to remember one god damn thing. Magic existed, he was a wizard, he got all of that. But why. That was the question. Why?

Shifting once more, Harry began to settle. The linens against his skin were scratchy and made sleep difficult to come by—but as minutes turned into hours, he found himself slowly falling into a slumber. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to settle down. At least in sleep he wasn't plagued with the reality he lived in.

* * *

Harry was awoken that next morning by the sound of hushed voices. The wizard slowly opened his stiff eyes, and begrudgingly realized he'd only been asleep for a few hours at the most. Grumbling slowly, Harry placed his hands flat on the bed and pushed himself up so that he could rest more fully in a seated positon.

"Oh, Harry!" The woman that spoke had long brown hair that fell in thick curls around her face and to her shoulders. Harry thought it looked somewhat bushy, but still fell down in softened curls that he imagined took some time in the morning to achieve. Hermione was her name—and she was around perhaps the most out of his visitors. While he caught her looking at him longingly sometimes, she was the one who was victim that the least. Usually doing her best to not seem desperate to have her best friend back. Her smile was kind, "We didn't mean to wake you up."

The witch was gesturing to the healer that was standing across from her. An older man with jet black hair. It was cropped short to his head, with soft signs of greying at the roots. He had a mustache that Harry might equate to some muggle detective. Though as the thought occurred to him, he wondered where it had come from. Those moments where he was met with some sort of spark of recognition, just like that, always made him feeling slightly hopeful. But they were never anything that actually matter, and that's where the frustration came in.

The older healer approached Harry and smiled at him, though his smile was not as warms as Hermione's. It was a shame really. "I was just speaking with your friend here, ." Harry found himself making a face at that. Harry was strange enough, was an entire different realm. The healer continued, "She has offered to take responsibility for your care if we release you from St. Mungo's. We simply need to get some paperwork in order and you can be on your way today."

Eyebrow's rose in surprise and Harry found himself looking to Hermione. She gave him an encouraging smile, one that showed him that she was stifling her excitement over the news. He would be released into her care, and he wondered where they would go. Harry found himself speaking, "Where am I going?"

The healer opened his mouth as to speak before Hermione interrupted. "We're going to stay with the Weasley's for awhile while we get you used to living outside of this place. They have a couple of spare bedrooms and I just finished all of my Hogwart's course work so I need a place to live in anyway—"Ah yes, Hermione could be longwinded as she explained herself. He remembered that. Wait. He remembered that. Suddenly a wide grin erupted across his face and Hermione matched it, "Do you like that idea?"

"I remembered." He blurted suddenly and if he'd set the room on fire, both of the members currently watching him were spurred into action. The healer conjured a notebook and a quill with a flick of his hand before he turned to watch Harry avidly. He spoke, "What did you remember, ?"

God— again. Harry cleared his throat and flicked his eyes between the inhabitants of the room. "Oh I just…" He was unsure of how to explain it. It had simply been a feeling, nothing like an actual memory. It was bound to disappoint them. "I just remembered that Hermione can be longwinded when she is trying to explain something… It wasn't a memory. Not really."

The look on Hermione's face was nearly comical as she stared at him, her hair a frizzy halo as it seemed to stand on end with her irritation. "Harry James Potter!" She exclaimed, though there was no true malice in her voice, more that of humor filled frustration. "Of all the things to remember, that has to be the first thing." She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest in a way that almost seemed like she was pouting.

Turning then, the older man spoke, "I take it that is accurate then?" He looked genuinely curious, ready to scrawl down her answer to his question. She huffed and shook her head. "Well—I suppose it might be accurate all dependent on who you ask." She looked pained as she spoke then and Harry found laughter bubbling from his chest. The first genuine sound of laughter anyone had heard from him since he had woken from his coma. Hermione turned then, staring the wizard down before she to was laughing. Joining into the laughter in a way that filled the room and set a furrow to the healer's brow.

"Ahem," The man cleared his throat and tucked the notepad back into pocket. "Alright then. I suppose I can leave you two to it then. I'll go get the paperwork done so you can be on your way." He nodded his head and then turned to leave the room promptly. Leaving Hermione and Harry alone in the room.

Approaching him, Hermione perched herself on the edge of his bed. A common habit she had developed, especially when she insisted on reading to him from some of the books she carried around in her handbag. Recovering from his fit of laughter, the young Potter brought a hand up to rub at his eyes. The sleep evident in them. Hermione offered him another smile, this time it seemed to be even lighter than it had been before. Almost as if that one moment had brought back all the hope she had in him fully recovering.

"I brought you some clothes. I wasn't sure what you would want, so I just packed a little bit of everything." She pointed to the bag that was sitting on the floor on the other side of the room. "You probably need some new items, because somehow, against all logic, I think you grew taller in here." Harry looked down at his legs as she did and wiggled his feet. Wondering vaguely if that was true at all. He knew he'd been in a coma for a year, and then spent another three months here in this bed. So he supposed it could be possible. Not that he had much to go against.

The man let out a sigh, "Hopefully I'm not walking around with an inch of my ankle showing."

The woman hummed her agreement and moved over to grab the bag. "Well if you are, I managed to snag some of Ron's jeans. Not the newest item I brought, but they might be long enough to cover any extra height you gained while you were here." She grabbed them from the bag and yanked them free. They weren't horrid looking, and had obviously been patched a couple of times. From what he learned from Ron, he was rough on nearly everything. He'd seen him knock items over in his room more than once. "Now come along, Harry, and we'll get you ready to go."

* * *

The witch had been right in her assumption that he had grown taller and he had been forced to put on the pair of jeans that belonged to the ginger Ron Weasley. He'd then chosen a comfortable grey shirt that he was told had once been too big on him, and while it was still slightly baggy, it was the perfect length for his lanky height.

Hermione had insisted on carrying his bag, despite his claims that he could do it himself. Informing him that he needed to not tax himself. The world was going to be new to him now and he needed all the focus he could get. Deciding to forgo the immediate trip into wizarding London, Hermione had opted to take him directly to St. Mungo's floo system. "No point in apparating you and making you sick." She explained away his questions with a flourish of her hand.

Harry had needed no direction on how to work the floo, glad that information like that seemed to still be in tact. Where he had gained it, or why he still remembered things like that was still a mystery. All she'd had to tell him was the name of the place they were going and Harry had stepped promptly into the fireplace. Dropping the powder down her shouted out clearly, "The Burrow!" and then was gone in a flash of green flames.

Swirling suddenly into the living room, he found himself faced with four redheads, staring at the fireplace and excitedly waiting for him to return. The smiles he was met with were pleasant enough, but Harry found himself already overwhelmed with the sheer amount of people in the room. Before he'd left the medical ward, he'd only been allowed a max of two people at once. It had always been controlled.

As Molly rushed forward to usher him in, he found himself surrounded by a brood of Weasley's and the panic set in far too quickly. It hit him quickly and his breathing began to speed up. He looked desperately for a way out, only to find himself in an unknown place with no idea of any sort of exit. The room began to spin next.

Whatever happened next, Harry barely remembered.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for all the story follows and favorites! A special thank you to CaelynAilene for a review. Those really are my favorite thing to get in the whole world. It's like Christmas!_

 _I'm going to try my best to do an update weekly. I just got out of finals and my summer is starting. So I should have more free time. I'm going to try and keep the chapters this length, but it can be a lot to write. So would you guys prefer shorter chapters and more frequent updates, or longer chapters? Please let me know._

 _For the sake of this story, nearly everything is canon up until Harry's accident._

 _Please read, and let me know what you think so far! A certain someone is planned to be introduced next chapter, I just want to get Harry comfortable before he can go back into the world. Which_ derails _Harry/Draco time, but I'm going to rush through it as much as possible._

* * *

The sight that met Hermione Granger as she stepped out of the floo was exactly the one she had been worried about. The look on Harry's face was panic stricken as he was faced with a brood of Weasley's that had been desperate to welcome him to their home. She had hoped they would have given him the space, but it appeared that they had been far too eager. Now Harry was looking at them like he was literally terrified as to what they would do them.

The young witch was moving towards him at a pace that was no doubt a little terrifying in its own right, but she doubted the red head's would listen to her if she tried to speak to them in a civilized manner. She moved to Harry's side—but refrained from touching him just yet. No reason to spook him further.

"Give him some space." Her voice came out a little rougher than intended, but it seemed to do the trick. Molly threw a hand to her chest as if affronted by the idea that she had overwhelmed Harry and Ron had the good grace to give a sheepish look. Of all the Weasley's, Ginny looked the most disappointed. She had, after all, perhaps lost the most with the loss of Harry's memories. She'd lost her lover.

Once they had stepped back, Hermione moved closer to Harry and looked over his face. The look on his face showed her that he could and probably would drop to the floor at any moment. His glasses had slipped down his nose and long curls were covering his green eyes. Any other moment, Hermione might have noted that he needed a haircut.

Hermione took another step towards Harry when he didn't seem immediately panicked by the idea of her being so close to him. She watched him closely, checking his movements and ensuring that he wasn't going to snap on her suddenly. "Harry. I need you to breathe. Just take deep even breaths straight into your chest." She watched as he followed her direction and was suddenly glad that she had been prone to panic attacks as a child. It made this all that much easier. Somehow she was able to help Harry in a way she was unsure anyone else could. "It's okay—You're okay. Just breathe." Her hands were held in front of her in a motion to show him that she meant him no harm.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been longer, but eventually Harry showed signs of calming. One hand clutched to his chest and the other now wound into his curly hair. Hermione swallowed roughly before nodding her head at him. "Okay. Harry—Would you like to see your room now? You can be alone there for as long as you want."

Green eyes shifted in her direction and she was glad to see that he seemed to be keen on that idea. Slowly, he nodded his head. "Yes… I… Yes." He might have wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words. That was just fine with Hermione. They could take this at his pace, he was the only healing; not anyone else. She didn't care how long it took as long as Harry got back to being himself. Whether that be with his memories or not.

Offering him a smile that was without judgment, she moved before gesturing towards the staircase. "Follow me and I'll show you." She moved up the stairs without checking to see if he was following, deciding it was probably better that she acted like nothing had just happened. The healer had said that this could occur, and the only way to fix it was by showing Harry that he had nothing to fear. He was like a newborn now, without even the comfort of his mother. He was scared, but still had to be independent in a way he probably had no way of knowing how to be.

The climb to the third floor wasn't too much of a climb, and it had been decided that Harry would take up residence in Bill's old room. Across from him was Charlie's room, which had since been reorganized and decorated to house herself. Just below Molly and Arthur, the room had felt just far enough from the noise that could be generated on the bottom floor, but close enough to someone, that should he need it, they could be there in a flash to help him.

Hermione pushed open the door, which had been decorated with his name and various qudditich images, to reveal the small but cozy room. The small twin bed had been tucked away in the corner and housed simply gray sheets with a threadbare quilt on top. On the far right of the room housed an old desk with a chair. Hermione had settled some quills, ink, and a notebook should he decide that was something he would like to help him pass the time. She'd also included an old copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ , after deciding that should she be in this situation she would like to read about the world she was a part of.

The last item in the room was an old trunk, with the initials H.P resting on the front. It housed all of his old clothes and personal items. Hermione supposed they would need to go out and get him new clothes, but she could adjust some of them for the time being. "…This is mine?" Harry spoke up behind her and the witch turned and gave him a quick nod.

"All yours. It's a little empty right now, but I know I wouldn't want someone decorating my space without asking me first. So somehow I managed to get Molly to leave it alone." She smiled again, this time full of slight humor. Molly was the matriarch of the family, and she definitely appreciated her efforts. But that didn't mean she wasn't frustrated at times.

The young wizard before her reached up and pushed his glasses up. "I uh… Thank you. I don't—But I guess I'll figure out."

Hermione nodded her head before moving towards the year. "I'm going to go downstairs for a cup of tea and then I'll be in my room, just across from you. Think about nipping a nap." She said as she stepped out of the room. She closed the door behind her, leaving it open only a crack. As she moved to descend down the stairs, she heard the last click of the door as it closed. She could only hope, that at least for the moment, he would be able to find some peaceful slumber.

* * *

Harry did just as Hermione had suggested and napped. He had settled his old canvas shoes up against the wall closest to the door and had crawled into bed under the quilt that had looked overly inviting in that moment. The sleep he had fallen into was far deeper than anything he'd been able to manage since he'd woken up from his coma. There was no one hovering over him, checking on him every hour to make sure he didn't slip back into the abyss he'd been in for month.

God, it was wonderful to just sleep.

Harry was unsure of what time he woke up after that. With no window in his room, it was difficult to tell if it had grown dark. If it had, he imagined everyone else in the strange, yet cozy, home had retired. Slipping from his bed, Harry rose and moved to push open the door of his room. He had a desperate need for a bathroom, only Hermione had forgotten to tell him where one was. Stepping into the hallway, Harry looked around and noticed there were only two doors on this floor. As Hermione's room was the other one, he would have to go hunting for a bathroom.

The young man moved to the stairs then, moving as quietly as he could in a desperate hope that no one heard him. He didn't feel like trying to keep the conversation going, especially because it was so often awkward to him.

The stairs seemed to squeak every time he took a step, but he hadn't roused the attention of anyone yet. So he continued his descent down, until he was on the ground floor. He peeked his head around the corner, spying the kitchen empty. Relieved at the sight, he grew more confident. There was a flickering light coming from around the corner. The living room, he recalled. And he wondered why a fire had been left blazing if it everyone was already in bed.

Moving into the room, he spied Hermione pulled up into herself in a threadbare armchair. She had a book spread out in her lap and curly hair spread wildly around her head. The sight felt familiar and he was unsure why. Opening his mouth, he found himself speaking, "Where's the toilet?"

The witch startled suddenly and slammed her book closed. Harry felt a soft blush spread across his cheeks and he looked sheepish. "…Sorry." He mumbled awkwardly. He hadn't thought speaking like that would have startled her as badly as it had.

Shaking her head, Hermione raised one of her hands and waved the apology. "Don't apologize. I'm just used to this place being deadly quiet at night. The Weasley's rarely get up in the middle of the night, I suppose that's why I prefer to do my reading at this time." Once more the young witch was rattling off and Harry found his lips quirking slightly to the side. It was nearly endearing the way she did that.

"I really just need to use the loo."

"Oh!" She cleared her throat, remembering then what he had come down for. "Um, they recently added one to the ground floor. Just go through there and it's the first door on the left." She pointed and Harry's gaze followed her finger with a nod. With that, he disappeared down the hall and into the bathroom. Once his business was taken care of, he walked back into the living room. Now that the most pressing issue was taken care of, he found his stomach insistently growling at him.

As if hearing his thoughts, Hermione spoke, her eyes not lifting from her book, "Molly left you a plate on the counter in the kitchen under a warming charm... If you find yourself hungry."

The young wizard didn't need to be told twice and he moved to find the plate. He licked his lips at the sight of it, a plate heaped with rice, chicken, and some sort of gravy. He pulled one of the odd chairs from the table and sat down with his food. Quickly digging into the dish, more than happy to take care of the food that had been thoughtfully been laid out for him. If he was being honest, he was surprised Molly had not woken him up to shovel food down into his throat.

Hermione entered the kitchen then, moving about and preparing tea. She had pulled her wand from her pocket and cast a quick silencing spell to ensure that the boiling kettle didn't wake anyone else and bring attention to what they were doing. Something Harry greatly appreciated. She sat down across from him with the kettle and two mugs. Harry found it amusing that nothing in this house seemed to match. Even the mugs.

"Tea?" Hermione asked as she began to make herself a cup.

Harry nodded, "Thank you." She passed him a cup of tea then and Harry reached out for the sugar, before realizing he had no idea how he took his tea.

"Three sugars. One milk." Hermione said as she added two sugars to her own cup of tea.

Harry stared wide eyed at her for a moment, "Huh?"

"That's how you used to take your tea." She responded with a soft smile. "And assuming that St. Mungo's didn't totally destroy your taste buds, I'm going to take a guess and say that's how you still take your tea."

"Oh… I suppose that makes sense." He agreed with the woman on that, so he reached over for the sugar and added three teaspoons, followed by a splash of milk. Bringing it to his lips, he blew on the liquid before taking a cautious sip. "You're right." He said with a nod.

"Good. I can't lose my credibility yet."

Harry grinned at that and took another sip of his tea. They remained in silence for some time after that, simply sipping their tea and not forcing conversation. It was comfortable to Harry, especially because people so often wanted to talk to him. He got tired of hearing stories from his past after awhile because they never seemed to click in his head.

After his tea was gone, Harry decided to break the silence, "What do I do now?"

The girl seemed to be taken off guard by that question and he saw her fall deep into thought. "Well… I suppose I don't know." It wasn't as if he could go out and get a job. He had no memories, and could barely cast spells. "We can work on you getting adjusted to the wizarding world again if you want."

"I'm not sure that's so much a want… as a need. Or at least… That's what I've been told."

"You still have some claim over what goes on in your life."

Harry sighed at that, part of him relieved while another part nervous about what that meant. He wasn't ready to make all of his own decisions, not yet. Mostly because he knew that he would make a mess of it if he tried. "Where do you think I should start?" He asked, finding he wanted her opinion. She treated him differently than everyone else.

"I think you should talk to the Weasley's tomorrow. Together." Harry cringed at that. "I know, I know… They can be overbearing. But they do love you, even if they can be piss poor at understanding boundaries."

The wizard nodded his head. "Okay, then tomorrow I will spend the day with the Weasley's."

"Deal." Hermione grinned and held out her hand. Harry took it, shaking it firmly. Somehow it felt more final that way.

* * *

Harry had retired to bed not long after the deal had been made. His body exhausted despite all the sleep he had gotten earlier. When he awoke next, it was to a soft knock on his door. He opened his eyes and stared at the wall for a long moment before deciding he would need to answer the knock. He assumed it was Hermione, deciding that a knock any louder than that would have to come from a Weasley.

Pulling open the door, he found himself correct in his assumption. Hermione stood in front of the door, changed and with her curly hair pulled back into an elegant braid. "It's breakfast time, Harry. I figured we could walk down together."

It wasn't a blatant extension of help, but Harry appreciated it. He was sure he would have chickened out if he would have been just himself. Somehow descending into the kitchen to a brood of redheads just wasn't on the top of his list of things that made him comfortable. He wondered how he had felt before. Maybe it had made him nervous even then.

The trek down to the kitchen seemed to take longer this morning, of that he was sure. And by the time they were to the ground floor, he found it a little more difficult to breath. The conversation at the table was loud, with Molly bustling about as she took care of her family.

As they both rounded the corner, the room went eerily silent. _Bloody fantastic._ As if things couldn't get anymore awkward, Ron was staring at him with a mouth full of eggs. Hermione scoffed next to him, "Ronald Weasley. Chew your food and stop staring."

Harry found himself cracking a smile at that, and in the corner of his eye, he found the younger redheaded girl grinning at him. Somehow that made the smile slip right from his face. Maybe it had been the look in Ginny's eyes, or maybe it was just the attention. Either way, he would have preferred for it not to happen.

"Sit, sit, Harry." Molly ushered him into a chair down at the end of the table. Right across from Ginny. Hermione took the seat to his right and helped herself to a generous serving of eggs. Before he could make a mood to get his own food, Molly began to pile a variety of items onto his plate.

Harry cleared his throat, "Thank you…" He whispered at the woman and she patted his head in affection in response before speaking. "That place was not feeding you enough. Look at you. Skin and bones."

The matriarch scurried away then and began to fawn over her husband. Harry was struck with the idea that the Weasley's were very lucky to have a wife and mother like that. Even if she currently made him feel slightly overwhelmed. He thought, then, that he would find that fading the more time he spent here.

"So Harry…" The girl across from him spoke, and Harry turned his head to meet her eyes. She was looking at him strangely again and heat rushed to his face. More awkward than anything.

"Um… Yes?" He took a bite of his food as an excuse to look down at his plate and away from Ginny.

The girl was not focused on her food in the least, "I fancy a walk later. Will you join me? It'll be just like old times."

How could he disagree with that? "Sure… I guess. I could use the air." Somehow he just didn't think the offer was innocent in the least.

"Lovely!" She proclaimed with a grin before returning to her food, eating much like her brother was.

Ron was long finished with his food and reaching for a second helping. Hermione looked up at him and gave him a look, Ron gave her a sheepish grin but still continued to help himself to more eggs. "Boys…" The witch mumble with a roll of her eyes, before she to returned to her food.

The rest of the breakfast was relatively uneventful. A few questions were directed to him by Arthur, but the man was mostly absorbed in the copy he had of The Daily Prophet. Harry would find his eyes wandering over the moving pictures. As they approached the finishing of their food, Arthur spoke again. "Harry. Would you like to see the paper? I'm done." He had obviously caught the boy staring.

Harry was unsure if he was ready for that, unsure of what he would read. But he found himself nodding, eager to read something from his world. The man passed the paper down and Harry took it. He spread it out on the table in front of him and began to earnestly read. Turning the page over, Harry made sure to skim every headline. From "Gringotts Treachery!" to "New Illegal Love Potion Sweeping Wizarding London."

Turning the page once more, Harry found himself staring at the photo of a handsome blonde boy. He was walking through a crowd, robes pulled up tight to his body and his head down. His features were sharp, his face stern and wrought with tension that only came from a world of worry _. Draco Malfoy Testifies Against Father After Mother Found Dead._

Harry looked up, "Who is Draco Malfoy?" For some odd reason he thought they might know. The looks on their faces alone was enough to tell him that they were right. Something was obviously familiar to him about this Draco.

"He's uh…" Hermione ran a hand across her face as she thought of how to phrase it.

"A horrid ferret." Ron finished her sentence and she flashed him a look, one that was more serious than any of the others she had given the boy.

Hermione admonished him then, "He's been through a great deal, and he's the one that got his father locked away for good. I would hold your tongue."

Harry was only feeling more confused by the moment and he stared at Hermione as he hoped she would explain. After a moment she turned to him, "He's a boy we went to school with. At Hogwarts." He remembered what Hogwarts was. "We didn't get along. But… He's different now. Or so I've heard."

It didn't seem like enough in the way of an explanation, but Harry had no choice but to expect it. He'd been told pieces of his past, but not everything. About his parents dying in a war that followed him as he grew, about going to a wizarding school and surviving a second war as a hero. But the details, he'd never fully been given them. He had a sinking suspicion that this Draco Malfoy had been on the opposite side of that war. That would explain Ron's attitude and the way Hermione had spoken about his father.

So he nodded his head in acceptance and decided to finish his food, his eyes drifting to the photo of the young man every so often. Once he was done, he rose from the table and brought Molly his plate.

She smiled and patted his cheek, "Thank you, Harry."

Ginny seemed to be done right after him, and he didn't think it was a coincidence. "Are you ready?" She asked him, far too cheery about it, in his opinion.

"Yes." He nodded his head and moved towards the back door. Ginny followed after him, doing her best to keep as close to him without touching, At least there was that, and things seemed to get lighter when he stepped out into the garden.

Ginny began to guide him on a path, "Mind the gnomes." She remarked, and Harry gave her a nod of understanding. He had learned, that with magic, it was better to not ask questions and just avoid the things you are told to avoid.

The walk, though pleasant for Harry simply because of being outside, was riddled with a feeling of awkwardness that was settling over him every time Ginny brushed too close to him. She only seemed to be getting closer, and Harry simply wasn't ready for such contact. Not yet. He could barely stand the doctors or nurses touching him. He honestly just hated strangers being so comfortable with him.

When he continued to be silent, Ginny decided to break the silence, "I'm glad you're here, Harry. I've missed you."

The young wizard cleared his throat, unsure of how to respond to that, "It's a nice place." That was probably not the reaction that she wanted but he couldn't think of anything else.

The girl frowned, "You don't remember anything?"

"No."

He felt like he should, like she was hurting more because he admitted that he couldn't. But he didn't even have an inkling of what she was hinting at. It seemed important, or at least that what her face was telling him. Beginning him to remember something that Harry almost felt like he'd lost forever.

Without warning, the girl leaned forward, getting up on her toes and pressed her lips against his. Harry was caught off guard, unsure of what to do. Her lips were wet and warm, but that was it. Nothing else. This wasn't what kissing was supposed to feel like, or maybe it was, he didn't know. But if this was what kissing was supposed to make you feel, he sure as hell didn't understand why everyone did it.

Harry pulled away after a moment, his hands pushing at her shoulders. "I uh…" She looked rejected, her eyes looking at him and almost begging him to not do it. He couldn't handle that look, couldn't handle the idea that he was crushing all of her hopes for them. Whoever he had been to her before this mess, he couldn't be that person anymore. It was painfully obvious to Harry that who he was now was not who he was before. He doubted he ever would be.

"…I'm sorry." He whispered the words before he turned and rushed away from the woman. He vaguely heard her calling out for him to stop, but Harry didn't stop. He kept moving until he was back in the Burrow. Avoiding everyone and their questions, he nearly sprinted up the stairs and into his room. Where he closed the door and sat on his bed.

Losing himself to whatever thoughts he had in his head.


End file.
